


I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop that I love so much

by Officialacejolras (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baker!Gabriel, M/M, Writer!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Officialacejolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serving people, cooking things. It was the family business. And to be frankly honest, Sam didn't really want a part of it. So he ran away, got a part-time job at a coffee shop in another city, and lived in a cramped apartment. But through that less-than-enjoyable living experience, Sam met him. Gabriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop that I love so much

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this is from the song 'Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop' by Landon Pigg. I recommend listening to it while reading this to set the mood, but you definitely don't have to.

Serving people, cooking things. It was the family business. And to be frankly honest, Sam didn't really want a part of it. What his family considered 'food' and what he considered food were two very different things, after all. Dean; he loved it. He grilled burgers and fried french fries half the time; and the other half he spent flirting with the ladies that came into the restaurant. Sam, on the other hand, didn't like cooking. He liked to read, write, and occasionally bake if his Dad and brother weren't there to laugh at him about it. He had a bit of a sweet tooth, but covered it up with lots and lots of health food(which is absolutely delicious and just as good, for the record.) But when it came to cooking food, Sam wouldn't have any of it. He had the capabilities to do good in that business, sure, but he didn't like it. It stressed him out, honestly, for he was always pressured to be perfect and cook everything just right with no complaints from anyone whatsoever. 

So when he ran out on Dean and his dad to become a writer and work part time in a coffee shop, a sudden relief fell upon him; the pressure of being perfect and enrolling in the family business gone. Sure, he felt slightly guilty leaving them like that, but he couldn't take it anymore. Dean might want to go into the business; fine. But Sam absolutely would not.

Sam's residence went from a reasonably big house to a small, cramped apartment near the coffee shop he managed to get a job at. He was 22, and had gone and stayed in motels for a week at most previously in his lifetime. Now, he was to stay here for months, or however long it took him until he could afford the cost of a nicer apartment. And it wasn't too terrible an apartment, regardless of the small size. It had two rooms, a small livingroom, and a reasonably sized kitchen that was almost as big as the livingroom itself. Sam moved some stuff from his previous room into the apartment, although it mainly consisted of a mattress, a lamp, a beanbag, and his laptop. Along with lots, and lots, and LOTS of books. It wasn't the comfiest living quarters, but in Sam's eyes, it was just enough for him to get by. And after the first week of working part time at the coffee shop (his boss was an Englishman named Crowley, and Sam honestly wondered if all bosses seemed like they were the King of Hell) along with writing the first chapter out of his novel 'Croatoan' (it was about an apocalypse filled with the wonders of angels, demons, and two female 'hunters' named Deanna and Samantha); Sam was half-considering going back home because this was just as stressful.

But then, on Monday afternoon of week 2 of living in the apartment, Sam met him. He was short- or maybe Sam was just tall? Or even perhaps both?- and his irises were the most mesmerizing honey color. There was a certain charisma to him too, although when he ended his flirtatious sounding order (Sam never realized that 'I'll have a house coffee, with 4 sugars' was able to sound like a pick up line before now) with the nickname 'Gigantor', the charm decreased quite a bit for him.

"My name is Sam, not 'Gigantor'," Sam told him repeatedly, but the grinning brunette (Or was his hair a dirty blonde? Sam couldn't quite tell.) just ignored him, calling him 'Gigantor' one last time before winking and heading out of the coffee shop, the incredibly sweet coffee in hand. 

Now, usually, some sort of pigtail pulling wouldn't bother Sam. But when the same man showed up the next day, and the next, and the days coming after that; it got to a point where it just got irritating. The next time the male came in to get his coffee, Sam tried to figure out what his name even was. After all, if he had to be serving the same order every day at precisely 1:30 PM or so to the same obnoxious man, at the very least he should know his name. But no, when he asked, all Sam got was a 'Loki! You know, like that one Norse God that Tom Hiddleston played in The Avengers! But of course, MUCH better looking.' 

So when it came time to call out that the man's order was ready, Sam called out, "Hey, short stuff! Your order's ready, honey!" in an attempt to embarrass the man. 

Unfortunately for Sam, the reaction wasn't one of embarrassment- no, for a split second there was some surprise on his facial features, only to be replaced with a wink while blowing a kiss at the taller man. "Thank you so much, my darlin' gigantor; maybe I'll see you tonight, hmm?" And then he made a suggestive movement with his hands, before promptly leaving the coffee shop, a smug look on his face.

Sam, meanwhile, turned bright red; the customers currently in the shop averting their eyes away from the man. Charlie, a red-head that worked with him most shifts, laughed; teasingly poking fun at the incident all throughout the day. Sam only scowled, glaring down at the tile floor. He almost wished he could complain to his brother, who he hadn't talked to since he left the house; but then again, his brother would probably laugh at him too. Probably tell him to get laid, on top of that. And maybe, he missed him. A lot. But this wasn't the time for Sam to back down- he needed to show Dean and John both that he could support himself; that this was what he truly wanted instead of going into the family business. So he continued on, working half the day and writing the other half. It was difficult at times, but doable. 

After another week of pranking/flirting/embarrassing the other, Sam finally learned the man's name. Gabriel. He just said it out of the blue, catching Sam completely off guard. He wasn't sure how he expected to figure out Gabriel's name, but an 'oh, by the way kiddo, my name's Gabriel.' response was definitely the exact opposite of it. Learning his name didn't stop the constant bickering between the two, however. Although, it might have gotten a bit more fond and teasing then irritated and appalled in nature after this revelation. Sometimes Gabriel would stick around for a few minutes after his coffee, although he couldn't stay long because of his job; that he refused to tell Sam anything about. 

"What, you a drug dealer or something?" Sam half-joked, slightly wary, but once Gabriel threw his head back in laughter; Sam couldn't help but laugh, too. 

######

Sam yawned, pulling out the rag used to wipe the counters; beginning to close up shop. Charlie had left early, saying something about a date with this girl who was just 'swoon', quote on quote. He didn't mind, really, he was happy for her; but cleaning when you're half asleep isn't that fun, to say the least. His mind wandered over to wondering how his brother and father were doing. Dean hadn't called- his brother had too much pride and stubbornness in him to do that; but Sam had a feeling that he was probably worried sick. Sam thought of calling him later, but then again, Dean wasn't the only stubborn one. Sam's train of thought, however, was interrupted by the door opening. 

"Sorry, we're about to clo-" Sam started to say, but then was interrupted. 

"Surely you can spare a few minutes for lil' ol' me, can't 'cha Gigantor?" A familiar voice rang out, and there he was; a sheepish looking grin on the male's face.

"Depends if you'll call me Sam or not. Your call," Sam responded back; figuring Gabriel would just give up. But then again, once he thought he found a pattern in Gabriel's actions, he always surprised him with something new. 

"Fine, fine, Sammykins. Happy?" Gabriel replied, stepping into the shop.

Sam sighed, shaking his head, a small smile ghosting his lips for a moment before he flipped over the open sign so it showed 'closed'. After all, can't let other customers get the idea that they can stay after hours, too. 

"Can't ever get normal with you, can I, hm? You want the usual?" Sam asked, stepping behind the counter; not bothering to don the normal green or black apron that he wore while working. 

"This is as normal as you're gonna get with me, hot stuff. And nah, I'll go with something different tonight. Break the routine, yanno? Surprise me," Gabriel said, grinning before sitting down at a table right next to the counter. 

"Alright, but you can't get mad at me if you hate it," Sam said sternly, before turning around, a small smirk playing on his lips. It was oddly peaceful to talk to the male, even though in normal circumstances, Gabriel was the type of person that Sam would probably never define as 'peaceful'. 

Gabriel chuckled, propping his elbows up on the table. "Touche." 

After a minute or two, Sam walked towards the table, two drinks in hand. "I know I won't be getting any work done with you here, so I made myself a drink, too," he said, setting down Gabriel's drink on the table before sitting across from him. 

"What is it?" Gabriel asked curiously, but all he got was a "Just try it!" response out of the Winchester. 

The shorter male took a hesitant sip of the beverage, before his eyes lit up and his lips turned upwards. "Mmm, wow Sam-I-Am, I've gotta say, this is pretty dang good. Peppermint Mocha?" 

Sam nodded, grinning. "Knew you'd like it. I figured from your usual that you're a sweet tooth, and went from there." He took a sip of his own Chai tea, pleased that he guessed right.

"I might just have to change my usual up for more of this stuff; way to get me hooked, Samsquatch!" He teased, pouting for a moment, before going back to gulping down (and slightly burning his tongue in the process) the drink.

Sam only chuckled in response, and the two sat there with slight interjections of teasing here and there. "So," Sam said suddenly, resting his arms on the wooden table. "You going to tell me where you work now?" 

Gabriel made an over-dramatized thinking face, stroking a non-existent beard just for kicks. "Hmmm... Should I tell you? Well, don't tell the police, but I roam the alleys at night and steal candy from unexpecting children!" He grinned from ear to ear, resulting in a hearty laugh from the taller man, before going on. "Nah, I just work at the bakery across the street. Best sweets in town, if I do say so myself! I'm the baker there, though, so my opinion might be slightly biased." 

Sam gave a silent nod of approval, making a mental note to possibly visit the bakery sometime. He had heard good things about it and was planning on trying some of the pastries there already, so this was more of a reason to visit. "I bet it all tastes horrible," he said teasingly, grinning. 

Gabriel gave a fake mock of disgust. "Puh-LEASE. I'll prove you wrong on that one, Sam-a-lam; just come on in sometime and I'll make you the best pastry you will have ever tasted!"

"Whatever you say, Gabe," he replied nonchalantly, pretending to just brush the dramatic protest off. 

"It's Gabe now? Not shortie, or honey, or midget-who-needs-to-call-me-by-my-actual-name? I'm touched, Sammykins!" Gabe brushed away a fake tear, grinning from ear to ear.

Sam's face heated up, and he scowled. "Don't let it get to your head, your ego might explode." 

"Whatever you say, Sam-I-Am! And since we're talking about working, I've gotta ask; what else do you do besides work here and talk to me? Not that that isn't fine by itself, but a guy's gotta live!" Gabriel said, genuinely curious.

"Oh, I'm sort of a writer. Yeah. Not that great of one, to be honest. I spend all of my free time working on my book or reading, really." Sam shrugged, not seeing any problem with it.

"Just reading and writing? Sammy-lammy-bobammy (Sam was going to murder Gabriel one day for coming up with such ludicrous nicknames) , you haven't seen the light of day! Tell you what, this weekend- I know you don't work weekends so don't even try that excuse- you meet up with me here at 10 and I'll give you a tour of the wonderful things this city has to offer!" 

"Well-"

"No but's, Samsquatch! I'll see you on Saturday, hot stuff!" And with that, Gabriel stood up, winking at Sam before he left the store.

Sam sighed- there really was no talking him out of something, was there?- before turning back to the mess of a coffee shop. He was going to be here a while...


End file.
